


For Keeps

by Doceo_Percepto



Series: A Noncanon Version of Little Nightmares II [9]
Category: Little Nightmares (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Anxiety, Cannibalism, Feels, Gen, Gore, Horror, I always forget to tag that one, Mono's Guilt, Mouth trauma, Nightmares, Sickness, Six's stages of grief, Strangulation, Vomit, a post-TAM AU, bit of suicidal ideation, breaking bones, selective mutism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-05
Updated: 2021-03-09
Packaged: 2021-03-09 18:53:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,510
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27891061
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Doceo_Percepto/pseuds/Doceo_Percepto
Summary: Mono can't do this anymore.
Series: A Noncanon Version of Little Nightmares II [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1652644
Comments: 33
Kudos: 159
Collections: Start Reading





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I've been trying to write a fic like this for a long time. Lonely Rat Girl's was about the closest I was beginning to get. But after reading [Pr0xy_T1mekeeper](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pr0xy_T1mekeeper/pseuds/Pr0xy_T1mekeeper)'s fic, and chatting with [Sp00py](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sp00py), it finally clicked in my head. So many thanks to you both!

It took Mono a long, long time to decide to leave Six. 

In his defense, Six was like some kind of magnetic vortex. She drew him helplessly in despite his terror, or maybe _because_ of it. The awe, and fear, and guilt; all these were part of what so deeply hypnotized him, even if on their own they were awful and wrenching to experience. She was so consuming that it was impossible not to be drawn in - to her play, her laughter, her devilish smiles, and the insatiable Hunger that drove her every action. 

After the Signal Tower, she killed, and killed, and killed. Each time she did this and ate in front him, she assumed his level of comfort with her actions was only increasing. Thus, the sheer scale and brutality of her feedings only increased. She was delighted by his apparent acceptance of her - and everything that meant. He smiled, and went along. He even helped, sometimes. Holding down victims, watching her tear them apart. He enjoyed it, too. It would be lying to say otherwise. Got a sick rush that crawled up from his toes to his head. Nothing else was so addicting. The sensation of meeting her eyes while they jointly murdered another kid was purely electric; the connection incredible, and it was followed by such an explosion of affection and gratitude from her… the sheer intensity of her adoration and their sordid actions had him completely hooked. 

After these moments, when he was dizzy with the experience, he’d look at the mangled remains and something in his head disconnected. It was like he was looking from outside his body, and he saw the corpses but couldn't process them, not really. It was so brutal, so awful, and he’d been a part of it. That couldn't be true. He laughed, sometimes, hoarsely and maybe humorlessly. Death was bizarrely comical. Bizarrely far away from him.

Sometimes something is addictive just because it is intense. Doesn’t matter if the intense thing is bad or good. If it scares you or makes you elated. If it hurts you or not. All that matters is it’s intense, and real, and powerful. Six was bad and good at once, terrifying and exhilarating. And in all these things, she was intense. She lived in the moment. Loved fully. And she couldn't be more happy to finally, finally have another person joining her in the roller coaster, because nobody else had been dumb enough to stay with her. Or nobody had survived long enough.

It was impossible not to get caught up. To feel like he was losing control of his own logic and limits. To do things, and then after the fact, think, _what did I just do?_ There wasn’t time to stop and linger, just keep doing. And so again and again, _what did I do - what did I do - WHAT DID I DO_ with raising alarm and terror until it became normal to wake up with his heart pounding. Normal to only fall asleep when he was on the verge of utter exhaustion. Normal to be jumpy. To flinch and start. To laugh nervously, and eat little. It was hard to be hungry, when Six’s appetite took precedence. When they always smelled a little like blood, until he didn’t smell blood much anymore. 

When the nightmares crept in, they just became part of the whole deal. Children’s faces leering at him. Eyes green, blue, brown, staring. Voices whispering right up close in his ear canal. 

_Monster._

_Murderer._

_She has to eat,_ he chanted back frantically like a motto that if he repeated it enough, he might believe it. Because she had gone way way beyond just needing to eat, and he knew it. She could settle for dead meat, for old meat, for something that wasn’t human. She could. But then - but then she’d be unhappy, they wouldn't kill together, there wouldn't be those rushes of bewildering and dizzying bliss. 

_Monster._

Bodies oozed together. Congealed blood and hair sucked at his ankles, and then calves, and tickled at his thighs. Teeth floated to the surface, and eyes hovered high above, watching, watching. The harder he tried to escape, panic crawling up his throat, the more the river pulled him down. 

_Monster,_ as he tasted thick blood. 

He’d jerk away, sweat standing out on his pale skin. Six was always there to comfort him. 

Six was always there. 

Eyes clever and childish. An unwise person might think them innocent, but there was something deep down in them - or maybe Mono was only imagining it - that spoke to a prodigious, playful evil.She never hurt him. Never would. He was her favorite, her only. And she was always, always there. Ready to rush close and coil around him, twining their legs, stroking his hair, and cheeks and shoulders. Making this soft hushing noise that was surely meant to be comforting rather than frightening. 

She was there in the mornings. She was there throughout the whole day, skipping at his side. She was there in the evenings, curling close and purring. The times he was alone were infrequent, but when he was, it felt like this band of tension was released from his chest. Like he could breathe. 

The relief from tension made him panic on more than one occasion, because it seemed to prompt, 

_Well, you’re alone now. Now is a good time to think about your actions. Think about her. Think about how out of control you feel._

Those statements came with responsibility. With a call for action. With a demand for him to make decisions, but within such precious little time to organize his thoughts and reason through the situation rationally. The pressure paralyzed him. 

More than once Six returned to find him hunched up, legs and arms tingling in the throes of a panic attack, his breath coming fast and short. She concluded she shouldn't leave him alone so often. He did best with her. They were best together. Maybe a good hunt would get his mind off things. 

He loved her. He did, he really did; he adored her. Yet he didn’t know how to explain that her, and the trail of corpses they left behind, played a heavy hand in his distress. 

The nightmares worsened. Trapped within them, he’d clap his hands over his ears and scream to drown out the voices of children. There were just so many of them. A tide, a mountain. Body after body after body. Soul after soul after soul. 

Then, one night, cool hands cradled his cheeks.

“Mono… mi hijo, te quiero, pero…”

Her cadence silenced the rest, and instantly he yearned toward it with the relief of someone who might finally know peace. He clung to her hands tight but was afraid to open his eyes, afraid for it to be a lie, because even in sleep he knew that voice couldn’t be speaking to him, “Lo siento, mamá, I didn’t mean any of this to happen, I don’t know-”

“Look, Mono.”

His eyes opened. She was there, as she once had been years and years ago, her eyes at once serene and melancholic. Her long hair draped down her body and dipped in the blood. 

“Mom,” he breathed, and nearly shattered then and there. He wanted to fall into her arms. He wanted her to tell him everything would be okay, the way she once did, before the televisions absorbed every last bit of love of attention she had to give. He wanted her to fix everything, and for him to fall into a quiet peace. He wanted to melt and pretend that she was alive still. She’d make everything right.

“Mono,” she murmured, stroking his hair. “Mono, what have you done?”

So swiftly and yet gently her serenity was stricken by a quiet disgust and horror. “ _What have you done_?”

He woke screaming until Six’s hands clasped over his mouth, _are you stupid, wake up the whole city, gonna get us in trouble -_

With her hands stifling his breath, and the memory of his mother sharp in his mind, the realization blared like a klaxon louder than it ever had before: he needed to go. He needed to leave. He couldn't harm Six any more than she’d ever harm him, but he couldn't stay here any longer, either. Hot tears streaked down his face. Six’s anger soothed into worry. She was all over him in consolation. Her tongue lapped every salty drop from his cheek.

Gradually the panic dwindled. He second guessed himself again. _Stay with Six. It’d be fine. You love her._

No. His stomach was twisting with anxiety, his heart thudding its usual skittering pace, and he knew. He _knew_. He couldn't bear any more of this or he would only destroy himself. The morning was a cold, dull one. He remained in a constant state of half-panic, racing through the idea. 

_Six will never understand._

He’d have to do it without telling her. Only, the idea of doing anything at all without her knowing, the idea of her finding out… She’d never get it. She’d never understand. She’d be devastated. He had to go quietly. Without her notice. And he had to run. Fast and far. It was better for her, maybe? No, he was only justifying this to himself. Six would hate it. She loved him. She wanted him forever. He wished so badly he could give that to her, because he wanted to. He _really_ wanted to. 

Only he was killing himself with her. The guilt, the lack of control. Being swept along in her. This wasn’t sustainable. He had no idea what kind of life he’d have away from her, but he wouldn't have a life much longer if he stayed. The remorse was devouring him from the inside out. 

Today. He’d do it today. 

“You know you mean the world to me, right?” Mono told Six.

A big smile spread across her face, and she nodded, blissfully unaware. Brimming with the compliment. 

“I mean it,” he tried again, hoping that something might instill the gravity of his words in her, without her suspecting. “I really, really care about you, and - and - you’ve done so much for me.”

Her smile faltered. She tilted her head, that cheerful demeanor there but sullied by the touch of concern. 

“Sorry, just - feeling sentimental I guess,” he rectified hurriedly. She looked at him strangely throughout the day. 

He didn’t leave that day. 

Nor the next. 

His mother appeared in his nightmares again. Six ate again, and Mono held down the thrashing body. 

He had to leave. 

Not that day. 

Nor the next. 

The opportunity came out of nowhere. They split to search for supplies separately, and the thought hit Mono like a ton of bricks. _This is my chance._

_I can’t do it._

_I have to._

He started walking. To look for supplies. But then he wasn’t looking, he was just walking. And then faster. Faster. Jogging. Soon he was in a full sprint, air pumping into his lungs, wind whipping past his face, and he couldn't begin to run fast enough to feel okay. Six. God, poor Six. He thought of her returning alone to their refuge. Of her looking around the blank walls. Empty. Her sitting outside, waiting hopefully for him to return. Longing. He would never come back; she’d never know why. 

Mono skidded to a stop. He hated how much crying he’d been doing lately, and he hated that he was now too, even as he hunched over to catch his breath. 

Six didn’t deserve this. Go back. Go back. 

He didn’t know what divine force possessed him, but he resisted. Maybe it was because he was already far gone enough. Already put enough distance to feel that maybe things would turn out okay. He was far too terrified to begin walking back, and to feel that fear closing in upon him again, like a wake of vultures. 

He broke down for longer than he wanted to admit, but he didn’t take a single step back. 

It was only when he recovered, and began heading outward again, that the thought drifted in, 

_She knows your scent._

Mono had seen her track prey over miles, for the sheer fun of it. Those scents were transitory to her. Uninteresting. Just random scents she picked up and chose to trace because there was more of a sport on it. 

Mono’s scent, though…? That one she knew real well. She loved tucking her nose under his chin and breathing it in. She’d recognize it anywhere, could follow it with great ease. Maybe he couldn't run fast enough. 

Fresh panic clamped around his lungs. His legs started an unsteady run. It’d be fine. It’d be fine. She had no reason to think he’d leave. By the time she noticed, he’d be long gone. He forced his half-starved sleep-deprived body onwards, but it was a losing battle. The world swayed. White bleached into his vision. The rocks underfoot swept up to meet him, and then everything was dark. 

For him, no time passed. But when his eyes opened (his heart thudding its perpetual beat of fear), the sky above was glittering with stars. Somewhere nearby, rock shifted with two dainty feet treading nearer. He knew right away. 

_Run, go._

His body responded numbly like his limbs were fake. Rolled over. Hands scraping on the ground. Struggling to rise and get away. 

Six’s hand clenched on the fabric of his cloak. It was a testament to his weakened state that she had no trouble flipping him back onto his back, and then her face was framed by the deep night sky. Her eyes blazed with confusion, rage, betrayal, hurt. She demanded an explanation. She was giving him time to talk.

Mono could have lied. He probably could have come up with some excuse, some reason or explanation that Six would buy because she always believed him. “I’m sorry,” he uttered brokenly instead. “I’m sorry-“

It confirmed to her what she’d feared. Her favorite, her only. Trying to run away. Tears pricked in her own eyes while a quietly building rage trembled in her shoulders. 

No. No nono. She was hurt. He reached out, like he had a hundred times before, to comfort her, but she shoved his hand away. Her lips were peeling back, revealing jagged lines of teeth. 

It occurred to him that a person as emotionally volatile, incredibly powerful, and so deeply hurt as Six could do a great deal of damage. 

It occurred to him that he very much needed to be afraid. 


	2. Chapter 2

With his eyes squeezed tight shut, Mono dreaded the first blow to rain down, or more likely - the first bite to pierce his flesh: she’d eat him alive in her ire, and she’d probably like it, too.

But that bite didn’t come.

It didn’t come.

The seconds ticked by, and still he was pulling air into his lungs. Still blood pumped fast through his veins, and nothing punctured his flinching skin. Six’s breath rattled with an unhinged cadence.

Mono dared to squint one eye.

She sat astride him, veritably quaking with rage and barely-held restraint. Her twitching fingers seemed to be fighting the powerful desire to shred his skin into ribbons. Her gritted teeth knew how easy it’d be to tear his throat out and end his distress.

But she hadn’t done either of those things. Not yet.

Mono let out a ragged breath. Could he actually make it out of this alive? He didn’t dare believe. “I never lied,” he wheezed through his terror. His eyes jumped from her teeth to her flashing eyes to her trembling fists, clenching and unclenching with vile energy. As if she was just waiting, _waiting_ for the smallest cue to mangle him. He swallowed hard. “S-Six, I swear to you, you mean so much to me. I love you, I _always_ loved you - I just-“

Her shriek was inhuman. In a flash, her weight was off him. She had started pacing: back and forth, back and forth. 

“I wanted to stay,” he tried desperately. “It’s just, I’m not made for what you do, not like you are-“

The glare she threw at him was mutinous. He had killed with her, after all, again and again and again. 

“I can’t explain,” Mono uttered helplessly. “I - I know we did so much together. But it scares me, Six, _you_ scare-“

A snarl hitched up her throat and he swiftly abandoned that line of conversation; “I’m sorry - I’m sorry I hurt you - I swear, that was the last thing I wanted to do -“ 

All Six’s betrayal, all her boiling rage and hurt, suddenly was too much for her. Mono expected her to tear him to pieces. Instead, everything in her deflated. Her stance, which had been rigid, lithe, and dangerous, suddenly became anything but as she collapsed to the ground. Her face fell into her hands, and she burst into silent, body-wracking tears. 

Fuck. _Fuck_ , he’d messed up so bad. He felt sick to his core. Riddled with self-loathing and fear. His instinct normally would have been to rush to Six’s aid, regardless of his own feelings. That instinct clawed at him to comfort her. _It’s your fault, now make her feel better. What’s wrong with you?_

But he couldn’t. He just couldn’t. 

She had been a hair’s breadth away from killing him. She might still. _He needed to breathe._

Mono half curled on his side, suppressing whimpers as unbidden images flooded his exhausted mind: sinew pulled taunt between her teeth, white nerves dragged from muscle, bone scraped of its lining. No no-no-no.

He’d been so close. He’d been so _stupid._ Of course Six would have found him, one way or another. He’d barely eaten or slept lately, and his body was worn down with the anxiety that plagued him every day. Meanwhile, she’d been eating better than ever, and was fueled by an uncomplicated lack of regret or guilt… not to mention the powers she wielded. 

He was dumb to think he’d be able to leave without her knowledge, and get away with it. But what was he supposed to do now? Ask her permission? _Beg_? He’d gone and sent her into an emotional spiral - she thought he’d betrayed her, for fuck’s sake. He _had_ betrayed her. What kind of patience would she possibly have for him asking to leave, now? And if he asked and she said no…

Mono moaned piteously, digging his nails into his cheeks. Fuck fuck fuck. 

He couldn't go back. It had taken him so, so long to decide to leave, and he’d endured more than he’d ever wanted in that time. He should have left months ago. But he hadn’t, and now Six was going to drag him back, and… the nightmares would keep coming.

In flashed more images; his fingers wrapped around another kid’s throat, their face turning ugly and purple, their eyes going bloodshot. 

“Stop stop stop-“ 

He didn’t realize he was saying it aloud. He didn’t want to think these things. He wanted to think nothing. He wanted to _be_ nothing. Just be at peace, forever, not existing.

Six touched his shoulder and he jerked back with an aborted cry.

She didn’t look dangerous, though, this once. Her eyes were red and puffy. Her expression was miserable and confused. She looked… like a broken little girl. He gazed sadly back. 

“I don’t want you to be miserable,” he murmured. What was he supposed to say? That she could find another friend? Six’s friends had a way of not lasting long. “But _I_ don’t want to be miserable, either…” He tried carefully.“And I can’t ask you to stop what you do.”

Six gave a firm nod, like, _yes, that’s right, so don’t even try._

Exactly what he’d expect. The next part was admitting that she couldn't ask him to stay with her, either, and put up with what she did. The next part was asking for permission to leave. His mouth went dry and he shivered. “Six, this doesn’t change… I… I can’t stay. With you, I mean. I have to, um-“ his words petered out with a squeak. 

Six’s lips formed a thin line. Her eyes were steely.

“I know it isn’t fair,” he struggled to continue, “and it might not make sense to you, but…” 

She placed a finger to her lips and he flinched hard. The air hummed with threat. Fresh panic crawled up his throat and clenched around his lungs. His mouth made motions to speak but nothing except a hoarse croak came out. This was his chance to shut up and agree with whatever Six said. To return with her to their den. Several seconds passed this way, him gulping for air and a thread of sanity. Still no harm came to him. Still she held herself back. 

Maybe he could still convince her. Even as his rising fear told him otherwise, he persisted weakly, “I _have_ to-“ 

That frail barrier of restraint shattered. She lunged. 

One moment, he was okay. The next moment, his pointer finger was snapped against the back of his hand. A wave of shock reverberated through his skull and he didn’t have time to feel the pain before Six had his middle finger pointing backwards, too. Adrenaline flooded in. He seized control of his body and reeled away, crying out.

Six pursued, her eyes full of fury. Hands fell upon him, clawing for purchase, and when he tried to shove them off, the pain finally loaded in his brain. It raked up from numb fingers all the way to his elbow, and the scream he let out hardly seemed like his. 

Six redirected and went straight for the injured fingers; she wrapped her hand around them and _wrenched._ White-hot pain bloomed, this time up to his shoulder, and his whole body leaned into her, as if the slack might lessen the pain.

“Nuh-no, Six-Six-Six- _please_ -“

She relinquished her grip, only for her fingers to dive for his mouth. They crammed into behind his teeth before he could process what she was doing, and then she whole heartedly threw herself into the effort of digging herself deeper, clawing at his gums and the roof of his mouth. 

“ _Mfh_!” 

_What the hell was she doing -_ Tears pricked at his eyes. His tongue roiled at the intrusion and she scoured her nails along it. _Oh god, was she trying to rip out his tongue?_ He couldn't stop gagging long enough to bite down, but he managed to grip her thin shoulder with his good hand. In a combined motion, he shoved her to the side and scrambled backwards. 

The two of them finally separated, and Mono hunched up, panting. His vision swam as it beheld his two fingers stuck pointing in the wrong direction. He forced himself to look away: Six recovered fast from the push and was darting in for another attack. 

“Wait-wait-wait-wait-“ he squealed. 

No luck. She was on top of him in the next second, hands crushing his throat. His spine bucked; his legs kicked; his arms struck at her. She weathered every blow, too enraged to care that she was getting hurt, too. 

His head became swollen and hot with blood, his lungs burned for air, but she didn’t let up. If anything, her hands tightened further (he could feel the tremors in them) and her teeth bared. The world around him became spotty and foggy, and his limbs heavy and stubborn. 

Then, just like that, her hands were gone. Her weight vanished from him. 

Mono sucked in a whooping breath, his heart pounding within his skull and sore neck. He barely had time to cherish the oxygen before he was hunched up violently coughing. Tears slid down his cheeks. The next several moments were nothing but coughs wracking through him, scattered by painful, desperate sips of air. There was no room to think about anything, or locate Six. Only survive.

Inhale. Cough. Inhale. Exhale.

The world came back into focus. Dizzily, he lifted a trembling hand. A physical wave of shock rattled through him at the sight of mutilated, swollen fingers that couldn't possibly be his own.

His eyes raised above them. Six was there, some couple feet away, crouched not unlike a cat. Watching every move. Now she didn’t look so much like a little girl, not anymore. There were red lines across her face where he had slashed at her in thoughtless defense. She barely noticed them, her eyes fixed upon him with an unhinged intensity.  


Mono swallowed, and it hurt all the way down. _Everything_ hurt. His gums where she had scratched them. His throbbing fingers carrying pain up to his shoulder. Even breathing and swallowing. It took her only seconds to do this to him. _Seconds_. 

The next sound was a twisted, broken sob. “Are you going to kill me?” The question was barely a rasp through a pharynx that didn’t want to function.

Six remained silent and motionless. Maybe she don't know, either. The seconds ticked on. His back began to cramp. Maybe she was deciding. Choosing whether he’d end tonight or not. He didn’t dare move, though everything in him screamed to run - what good would it to? He knew better than anyone that Six liked to chase. His condition only deteriorated, exhaustion and pain melding until there was three of her, three that all stood in unison. He fiercely blinked to clear his vision; the three phased into one. One with unreadable eyes. One who gestured, _come here._

Dread percolated through his body. She wanted him nearer, and he wasn’t in the mood to deny her anything she wished. But he didn’t trust himself to stand. 

_Imagine what she’ll do to you if you don’t._

Mono tucked his legs under himself. Shifting his arm alone had agony yanking the cords of his nerves. _Don’t move that arm. Use your other one._ Hurry. Holding his left arm stiffly, Mono leaned on his right, and struggled up on legs shaking too hard to ever be considered balanced. He ended upright, feet braced apart.  _Good. Now walk._

Six curled her finger impatiently. 

Light headed, Mono took one step, then another, until he was swaying in front of her, nearly delirious from her proximity. Crocodile teeth hid beneath soft lips. Nails that served as claws. _She didn’t even use her shadows._ She could have done so much worse. Could still. 

He couldn’t meet her eyes, but up close, he did observe the vicious red lines across her face. The ones he’d left, without even it realizing it, in his efforts to get her off him. She didn’t even seem to care. 

She reached up - he flinched - 

And the pads of her fingers caressed his jaw. 

Did she want answers? An explanation? He’d tried to give those. He wasn’t going to try again. 

She stood on her tippy toes, and her cheek pressed to his. All the while, he was completely frozen. She was so so close. Chilly arms wound around his body; not two, but dozens, amorphous and black. 

Ah. There were her shadows. 

He barely breathed, whimpering, as they coiled around them both. Was she going to kill him? Was this her goodbye? 

The moment passed. Her shadows slipped away into nothing once more, and she stepped back. She turned away, and waved her hand beckoningly. _Come on. Follow._

He swallowed. Right. Okay. Of course. Back home.

Back home. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want much too badly to continue this.


	3. Chapter 3

Mono trailed after Six, his skull ringing with the words, _you’re going home,_ except each word dripped with foreboding and ache. Nursing broken fingers and a mouth that felt like he’d chewed glass, he was torn between several sensations. 

Fear. That one was obvious, and omnipresent; a heavy molasses-thick feeling that had sunk into every fibre of his being. 

Exhaustion, pain, worry - all those were easily predicable. 

But also…

Longing. He craved her warmth. Her smile. Her kindness. She wasn’t a monster - no more than him - and through their friendship, he’d gotten to witness aspects of her personality that were tender, playful, or sweet. Those parts he fiercely missed now. The gravity of his actions was sinking in with a growing dread: they wouldn’t be the same, not ever again. He betrayed her. She’d never trust him, not the way she had before.

As they traveled slowly beneath the milky glow of the waxing moon, Mono gazed at her stiff walk, her rigid shoulders, her lowered head. She was more silent than he had ever seen her, and he knew that under her silence and her stillness, a maelstrom raged. That’s how she was. The more quiet, the more thoughts clawing inside her head.

He wanted badly to apologize, and beg forgiveness he wouldn't get. At the very least, explain himself.

Every stinging injury ensured he held his tongue. Earlier, she had given him many, many warnings that he had not heeded. He didn’t think she’d be giving warnings anymore. Mistakes could swiftly become wounds.

So he said nothing, through the long, long trudge back to their current hide out. Red rays were breaking over the horizon when they finally made it. The sight of their refuge, signs of their existence together - blankets, stashed food, water, a few toys, crayons, paper, plans - it stole any remaining scrap of energy from him. All of these items were signs of a life that wasn’t going to exist anymore.

By habit, he gravitated towards the bare mattress he and Six once shared together. With a hiss and flashing eyes, she warded him off. Another thing that would be different, now. He collapsed to the floor, shivering in fatigue and lingering shock. This would have to be his bed tonight.

Sleep devoured him, but it didn’t provide rest. 

In dreams, amorphous arms pinned him, spread-eagled, while her teeth pierced into his stomach. He was held helpless as she chewed out flesh and bulging organ meat.

He jerked awake, feverish and panting. Sun filtered through the broken slats of their hideout - an abandoned attic, whose previous residents were nothing but deflated clothing on the lower levels. The light dappled over his clothes, which were stiff from dried sweat. Every inch of him felt disgusting, unclean, and wounded. He touched his temple to steady his vision, only to find his forehead burningly hot. 

_I’m sick._

It made sense, he hazily reasoned. After last night. After - 

He swallowed and it felt like swallowing fire. After -

The cold night, no blankets. After running himself into the ground. After -

_Six._

She was laying on the mattress, back turned to him. At first, he thought she was sleeping. Then he heard the softest of sniffles, and glimpsed a tremor in her spine. 

_Oh._

She was crying. His self-loathing deepened. In her mind, Mono had left for no reason, drawing into question everything she had believed about him, up to and including his care for her. She had to believe something terrible about him. Had to believe she was alone in the world. 

Chest aching, Mono almost, _almost_ got up to comfort her. The sight of his swollen purplish hand held him back. 

_What will she do with me now?_

She wouldn't trust him again. But then why lead him back? For a semblance of normality? To keep him until she was ready, on her own terms, to let their friendship go?

Mono didn’t know whether it was these thoughts or his encroaching sickness that had him hunch double and spit up whatever water and stomach acid remained in him. All he knew was a deep-rooted queasiness, and then - a soft ringing in his head, an alarm. Six had heard his retching, and instantly stopped her tears with the practice of one accustomed to life-or-death situations. Now she was looking at him.

Their gazes met and Mono froze like a rabbit snared in the sights of a wolf. There was no hiding that she had been crying. He was too afraid to speak any words that might console her, or break down the heavy barrier that hung between them.

Six wiped her tears, forced her face into a facsimile of calm, and then set to work. 

First, she cleaned his blistered feet, and bandaged them. Then, she studied his broken fingers, hummed in a way that implied she wasn’t sure where to begin with those, and then settled on taping a splint (a flimsy stick) to his hand, rendering the entire hand useless. Through all of this, he held his silence, though he burned with questions and answers. 

Finally, she peeled off his grimy layers of clothing, and left him, shivering with worsening fever, on the floor. Dream and reality began to blend, and the next few hours - days? - were an obscure blur, characterized by sensations and sounds. He wasn’t entirely sure, after the fact, which were real, and which were not. The clack of a spoon to his lips, and then heat of broth pouring down his throat. The gritty floorboards his cheek pressed against, as he panted and wondered deliriously if he’d die. A soft, placeless humming, and fingers carding through his hair. 

When he woke - _truly_ woke - he was wearing his clothes again, but they were warm, soft, and clean. His throat was raspy, but his vision finally cleared. His mind had the relieving clarity characteristic of someone who has passed the worst of their sickness. He didn’t know how long had passed, or what had happened in that time. 

He _did_ know, upon inspecting himself, that the bandages on his feet were gone, and the splint on his fingers looked like it had been changed out or readjusted. 

_She must have taken care of me, then._ Despite everything.

She wasn’t in the attic, though. There was only the soft whistling of wind through the cracks. 

_What if I left now?_ He thought, and had the sense to be indignant that any part of him had suggested abandoning her, after Six had tended to him, and been kind to him. 

_Well, you want to leave, don’t you?_

It was hard, feeling the same way about the subject as he had before. His guilt and the crimes he’d committed were just as present as always, but now they had paled beneath his injuries and the devastation from his and Six’s friendship being positioned so precariously. 

_How quickly your morality falls to selfishness, hm?_

Mono growled lowly. It didn’t matter now. Even if he did leave, Six would just find him again. The safest option was remaining here. 

Shuddering, he hunched up, and waited. Waited. Waited, his eyelids slipping closed. 

It was the smell that woke him up. Rancid and heavy, like breathing blood. The sounds, too. Crunching, cracking, wet masticating. Mono didn’t want to wake up to the truth. But he couldn't pretend. Reluctantly, he opened his eyes, and covered his mouth with his sleeve.

Six had dragged in what looked like one fourth of a corpse; an arm with meaty bits attached, half the ribcage with bones jutting and white. The size matched that of a small child, younger even than Six, perhaps by a few years. 

Six relished her dissected meal, crouched over it like a mantis. Mouthful by mouthful the human remains disappeared down her throat. All the while, her glittering eyes remained fixed upon him. 

Mono’s nausea reared its head again; this time, he managed to keep his meal down. That had been a living child, once. 

_Do you think it makes you a good person, to think that’s wrong? After the things you’ve done?_

Mono squeezed his eyes shut. Stop, stop stop. 

The noises swarmed his ears. The smell was so thick that it crawled down his nostrils and into his throat. It was the sort of smell you could never really get out of your clothes. The sort of smell that stuck to walls, to air, to everything. Six had never been allowed to bring her food back to their hidey-hole for that (and other) reasons. It was too dangerous, too messy - there was no reason for it at all. So why now? 

Was she trying to prove something?

Mono groaned. He couldn't stifle the reek, not even through his sleeve. 

Her glittering eyes remained fixed on him, practically baiting him to speak up. Say something. Challenge it. Go on, see what happens. 

He had no interest in being a part of this game. It only filled him with an aching sadness, to think that she’d lost so much regard for him she was playing games like this. She must hate him. It might not be fair, because all he’d done was run, but he loathed himself. He should have explained. Done something, at least. Rather than leave her with no explanation and no comfort. He’d just… known she would survive, because she was Six, and Six, with or without someone else, was a survivor. 

He hunched up, knotting the fingers of his good hand in his hair. Justifications. Excuses. “I was having nightmares.” It stumbled out of his mouth, very much unintended. 

The sounds of Six eating paused. His heart hammered. 

“F-For months,” he dared continued. “Every night. I couldn’t sleep.”

She didn’t move. Didn’t make a noise. He didn’t dare look at her, lest he see rage, or sadism, or something equally awful in her eyes. “I saw the things we did.” His voice trembled. He’d never admitted this, not out loud, despite how much it tormented it. He thought Six might misinterpret it, might get the wrong impression. “I saw so much blood, and death, and I knew it was my fault.” He stumbled on the skipped _our_ in that sentence. It was Six, after all, who wanted to feed on living flesh. Six who spearheaded the most twisted of their missions. 

“I know you can’t feel it,” he said, by now the quietest of hushes. Six had to lean in closer to hear; he tensed at her proximity, but forced himself on, “but the guilt is eating me alive, Six. We’re - we’re doing horrible things…”

He glanced at his ruined hand, shuddering. It might be bandaged and splinted now, but so easily he could imagine the fingers twisted backwards the way they were after she first broke them. 

“I’m scared about what’s inside you. More than that… I’m scared about what’s inside me.”

Silence. The sort where you could have heard a pin drop. Mono waited, shuddering. Then found courage and raised his head. 

Six’s face was stunned. Her eyes had tears in them, and her jaw was slack. She probably had a billion questions. Not that she’d ever voice one. 

“That’s why I ran,” Mono whispered. “Not because I don’t like you. Trust me.”

She jolted to her feet. Her fingers clenched and unclenched. Not a good sign, he thought, backing up a step. But she did no harm. Not this time. Face twisted with emotion, she slunk to the corner of the room, where she pulled out a pot of sloshing liquid and dragged it in front of Mono. 

Confused, he peered inside. There were chunks of floating food, dull grey colored water… 

Oh! Soup. He’d been so delirious when Six had fed him the soup, that part of him had convinced himself he hadn’t really eaten anything at all: that the hand of his mother, feeding him spoonful by spoonful, was just as fake as the soup being guided to his mouth. 

Was Six offering more soup for him to get up his strength? He didn’t even know how she had made it; she wasn’t much of a cook at all. He wasn’t hungry, either, but he still wasn’t comfortable enough around her to refuse. Full of doubt, he reached toward the pot, only for Six to slap his hand. 

He jerked away, eyes round as a wild animal’s. His body remembered well the things she’d done to him, and it wouldn't forget any time soon. Touch was dangerous. 

However, Six made no further effort to hurt him. She pointed at human remains behind her, and then at the pot. She repeated this twice before the reason sunk in. 

Oh. 

She grasped from his expression that he understood. She’d been mad, so she did it out of spite. Maybe after his explanation, she felt he deserved to know. That was all Mono could guess. He stared the floating chunks in the soap.

Six patted his head (he flinched), and left, while he stared down in horror, sickened. 

She’d fed him human meat. 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had a feeling it'd remain unfinished if I didn't end it here.

Mono threw up until there was nothing left in his stomach but bile and stomach acid. Six, it turned out, had not gone far, because he could feel her eyes boring into him from behind. The smell of death stuck to everything. To the floorboards, the air, his clothes. He imagined he could smell it on his breath, although there was no way that was true. 

Was this what she wanted? To see how unnatural her appetite was for someone like him? No. She wasn’t going to tell him, originally, was she? She only told him because she found some modicum of sympathy for him. She just did it to spite him. She did it because she could, and she was mad at him. 

Clammy and weak, Mono slumped against the wall. He hated himself. He hated how he felt. He hated…

All his justifications scrambled to save him from that impending thought. It was okay. She couldn't help how she was. She was hurt, and lashing out, because _he_ had betrayed her. These things were true, he was certain in some distant, foggy part of his brain. And he loved her, anyway. He couldn't not. She was a whirlwind, whipping him along and giving his life something it _never_ had had before. 

Now, though, this felt like an end. Everything with her had been a nightmare, or a dream - vivid and absorbing both ways - and now he had woken up. It was over. He couldn't feel exactly the same, anymore, not after she’d showed what she was capable of doing against him. 

_You already knew what she did to others, and this is the line you draw?_ His mental voice chimed derisively. 

Tears silently slid down his cheeks. He knew he had emptied his stomach, but it didn’t feel like enough. The harm he’d done was deep in him, whether he still had human remains in his stomach or not. How did things spiral so out of control so fast?

Mono passed his shaky fingers over his eyelids. Let his hand fall into his lap. Dared to meet Six’s regard.

Before, Six had been fire and hot rage, and then consumed with sorrow and anguish. Now… her face was impassive. Almost bored. She must have told him about what was in the soup out of some lingering sense of warmth or pity, but the sentiment had passed. Her moods were capricious and unpredictable now, but steadily they were flatlining; the roller coaster of emotion tackling smaller and smaller ups and downs.

While Mono was overwhelmed just trying to exist and wrestle with all his pain and emotion, Six seemed to be skipping by all her stages of coping very rapidly. What did that mean for him? What was the final destination, when she had accepted what he’d done?

“H-have you ever-“ Mono’s voice cracked and petered out. Talking still scared him. 

Six did nothing but watch. Blank and expressionless, like she didn’t know him at all. That wasn’t a good sign. Kids she didn’t know tended not to last long. Fear melded with stinging hurt. The two were constantly interwoven, now. She meant _everything_ to him. If she could just express, even a little, that she still recalled the years they’d spent together, years bonding, growing close, loving each other. 

Mono sought for any of that in her expression and found none of it. But… she had tended to him. Fixed his wounds (fed him - no, don’t think about that). That meant something, right?

Mono collected himself. “Have you ever… ever thought about… not hurting kids?”

Six stared. 

A tiredness that made him feel a hundred years old sunk into his bones. “About just… finding a safe place, and living just to live?” His heart longed for that like nothing else. No more death. No more nightmares. No more fear. Just peace. It seemed unattainable now, after what Six had done to him, but… if there was any chance at all… and if there wasn’t, that didn’t mean anything good for him, because he didn’t know what Six’s alternative would be.

Slowly, to Mono’s shock, Six nodded. His heartbeat picked up.

He leaned forward. Recovering would take eons, he knew that. But they were still only kids, even when he felt a million years old. Six wouldn't let him leave again, nor did he want to face the bleakness of the world alone. Even now, she had her claws in him, but that didn’t have to be a bad thing. They could make something work. “What if we did that?” He whispered. 

Strictly speaking, Six didn’t _have_ to eat children. Any meat would do. “We could find a way. We could make a home. We could-“

Six shook her head. 

His words died. “Why - why _not_ -“ 

It was no use. She wouldn't answer directly. He had never before met someone so unwilling to explain themselves, yet it was part of Six that he was very familiar with, enough to know that questions more complicated than yes or no answers were unlikely to get him anywhere. She simply had to be interpreted, and she cared little when those interpretations were wrong. 

His head thudded against the back wall, mind churning. 

Maybe it was a question he could answer on his own, anyway. So Six had thought about living a peaceful life, one that didn’t entail killing to survive. But she wouldn't even entertain the idea of actually doing it. 

Mono sighed softly. Six was many things. She could be playful, light-hearted. She craved human company, and liked curling up with Mono at the end of a long day. She liked when the sun came out, on the rare times it did, enough so that she’d crawl up on a dumpster lid or a roof and bask. There were a thousand little, innocuous things she enjoyed. But no pleasure rivaled that which she exhibited when she was hunting something, or tearing into someone’s throat. She liked many things, but maybe she lived for just one. 

Feeling sick, Mono pulled his legs to his chest and buried his face between his knees. “What are we going to do now?” He whispered. 

The floorboards creaked. Mono jerked his head up, alarms screeching in his head. She could hurt him again, she could - 

But no. She’d drifted to the window. To Mono’s amazement, a tiny shaft of light was glowing through. Speak of the devil. It was light outside. A tiny smile perched on Six’s face. In the next moment, she had climbed out of the window, and little feet could be heard padding on the tin roof. Sun-bathing, then. 

There was a twist of his heart: she used to do that with him, sometimes with their fingers tangled together. He didn’t dare follow her. He wasn’t sure he even wanted to. He brushed over his injured fingers, shuddering at the memory sharp and stark of her on top of him, breaking bones, clawing at him. 

_What now, though? What now._

Everything was so messed up. 

He was too scared to run, but the way that Six was behaving around him was somehow more frightening than her fury. His wounded body warned him from entirely trusting it, but he was fairly sure she wouldn't attack him again, not out of anger at least. But that left the question of what she was going to do. What she planned with him. 

Going back to normal was out of the question, in his mind, as desperately as he wished it, and it must be out of the question in her mind, too. She wasn’t the sort to forgive. 

Mono groaned and rocked forward, back, forward, back. This was bad, this was bad. A heavy malaise hung over him. 

She’d… she’d understood his explanation, right? That’s why she’d been honest about the soup (Mono swallowed down the reoccurring urge to vomit). So maybe she’d understand, if he explained more. Yes, he’d have to try that. 

When her spindly limbs finally came crawling back through the window, his head lifted hopefully. 

“Six,” he breathed, voice trembling. He knew he had to explain. Instinctual fear was hard to bury, though. She looked over at the sound of his voice, and he swallowed hard, because her expression was still blank, vaguely curious. Almost like she’d forgotten he was there. That hurt more than he was comfortable admitting.

“I wanted to talk,” he whispered. “If - if…” His fingers throbbed. His stomach flip flopped.

Her feet were silent as they tread across the floorboards. Cool fingers touched his cheeks, and Mono tensed up. Flashing back to clawing, biting. Only now every touch was gentle. 

His words stuttered. She didn’t look the way she did when the two of them would cuddle up together at night. Not at all. None of the soft smiles, the tenderness. Her touches might be feather-like, trailing over his nose, his eyebrows, cheeks, lips, but her expression was impassive. 

Uncontrollable shivers started up. “S-Six, please. Remember everything we did together? We’ve saved each other, s-so many times-“ 

She knelt down. The silence rang in his ears.

“I’m sorry I ran,” Mono whimpered. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry- I didn’t - it was dumb - it doesn’t mean anything-“ Her arms looped around his shoulders, and by this point he was hyperventilating. Something was wrong. Very very wrong. She was too close.

Her lips tucked under his chin, grazing his throat, and Mono couldn't help his pathetic whine. He was too scared to push her off, too scared to fight back. He’d tried to fight back, before. That had only incited her, urged her to hurt him worse. If he sat still, if he let her do what she wanted - 

Tears pricked at his eyes. Everything felt awful. His whole body a shivering wreck of anxiety. His wounds aching horribly. His mind crumpling as everything he and Six had built over years together was shattering so, so quickly. 

Six was a survivor. She had let him get close to her, had let herself got attached, and then - then he’d run. 

“I love you,” Mono uttered.

She buried her teeth in his throat, and ripped it out. 

He wheezed, lungs pulling in blood and air, and his scream was stolen from him.

Emotionless, Six stood, and spit out the meat. She watched quietly as he clawed at his ruined throat, gasped airless words, and writhed like a snared animal. 

She watched until there was nothing more to watch, and then left.


End file.
